


How To Train Your Tiger

by Pink_Dalek



Series: Morsels [3]
Category: Endeavour
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:57:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Dalek/pseuds/Pink_Dalek
Summary: This is what happens when you look through cards in your new Superfight game while watching ‘Endeavour.’





	How To Train Your Tiger

“When it jumps, you run!” Morse told Julia Mortmaigne, while his guts roiled in terror. The Bengal tiger prowled towards them. 

He couldn’t help making eye contact. The tiger stared back, gold eyes locked onto blue. Time slowed down for Morse as they stared one another down, as he waited for the end.

The tiger’s expression seemed to change, its whole body relaxing. Morse cocked his head, feeling something alter in the energy between them. He took a cautious step forward, slowly reaching out his hand. The tiger took a step, stretching its neck slightly. ‘Nice kitty,’ Morse’s inner voice sing-songed, as he stifled a mad giggle at the thought of sweet-talking a tiger like an ordinary housecat. Over his shoulder Julia Mortmaigne watched, transfixed, as Morse and the tiger inched closer to one another.

Then his fingertips touched the bridge of the tiger’s nose and he was overwhelmed by feelings and images: fear, anger, loneliness, and above all an utter sense of wrongness. Of trying and failing to find the One. His One. First the golden one, then the pain of banishment and the madness of the tiny enclosure. The Keeper was not his One, either. So he escaped, endlessly searching. Another golden one, who was not the One. A dark one who wasn’t. A grey one. The one who smelled of a tigress, making him doubly disappointed, doubly enraged. And now another golden one, and he would try again—

Morse drew closer, resting his hand against the tiger’s brow. He felt peace, rightness as Brutus gazed into his eyes, as understanding came to them both. He didn’t notice the wind pick up around them, raising a dust devil in the heart of the maze. He didn’t hear Julia Mortmaigne shriek and flee. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes, the tiger had nearly tripled in size. Armor gleamed on Brutus’ flanks and shoulders, along with silver-trimmed black leather tack. His purr was like a perfectly-tuned engine rumbling. He would draw no blood now, unless his One required it.

 

Chief Bright raised his shotgun at the sound of something massive approching the exit of the maze. Beside him Thursday pushed the gun’s muzzle downward, aiming it at the ground.

“Matey,” Strange gasped.

“I saw one once in India. I thought they were extinct,” Bright breathed.

“Nearly lost them all in the War. Noble beasts— we had a few on the Italy campaign.”

“The Chief Constable will have to be notified, of course.” Bright shaded his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Morse, did you have any idea you were a Rider?”

“None at all.” He sat easily on his new mount, holding the reins in one hand like he’d been doing it all his life. “I’m not sure how this will affect my work, sir.”

“Nonsense, Morse. Having a Rider in the constabulary is quite the coup.”

“We’ll have to inform the Guild, of course,” Thursday reminded them. “They’ll be responsible for housing the two of you, and feeding the tiger.”

“That’s a good thing. I couldn’t afford to keep Brutus in goats and sheep on my salary.”

“You’re sure he won’t attack anyone?” Guy Mortmaigne asked nervously. “We thought Brutus was an ordinary tiger.”

“Now that he’s bonded, he won’t touch anyone unless Morse asks him to,” Thursday explained. “Or unless Morse is in danger.” He looked up at his bagman. “Meet us back at the nick, lad?”

“Yes, sir. Brutus would like to stretch his legs.” The tiger took off at an easy lope.

The others watched them disappear across the countryside towards town. Bright shook his head. “A Battle Cat in Oxford. This is proving to be the oddest posting of my career, Thursday.”

“Never a dull moment, sir.”

 

 

 


End file.
